


24, 720, 17520

by naurrr



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/F, the other straw hats are mentioned only briefly because im a whore for my two queens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 17:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30075858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naurrr/pseuds/naurrr
Summary: Robin wondered how Nami would be like after two years. (Or, a dramatised retelling of their reunion because the anime was too unsatisfying.)
Relationships: Nami/Nico Robin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	24, 720, 17520

**Author's Note:**

> nami and robin saved my life and raised me no i will not elaborate further!!
> 
> this fic spiralled out of control LOL i planned for only 2k max but anyway it was fun to write!!

Two years was 24 months was 720 days was 17520 minutes. Two years was enough time for none-too-scrupulous organisations to spring up and flourish, or flourish and crumble from betrayal from its innermost personnels. It was also enough time for a person to undergo enough changes to render them near unrecognisable. Every one of the 720 days held potential for upheavals. Even more so for the minutes. Nico Robin would know, having been on the business end of change's blade far too often. 

Not that change was a thing to be fought. Tooth and nail, fearing to yield even an inch. No, she had grown accustomed to navigating the ripples left in wake of changes by herself, almost as masterfully as a certain short-haired woman did so with the sea. Things worked out as long as she alone still lived. But everything was different now, wasn't it? The welcoming weight of friendships was a weight nonetheless. 

_How different could a person be after 24 months?_

In a way, she guessed she had her answer when she saw Franky. Very, very different. But then the corners of his mouth pulled back into that shit-eating grin and he struck that trademark pose with an even louder clang. A deranged pervert remained a deranged pervert. And Robin felt a little more balanced. Strange, what you could get used to, sailing on the Grand Line. 

On the still largely empty deck, she stepped across to the railing, mindful of the coating. A slight frown lined her face again despite the wind's gentle caress. Things were constantly in flux. So too were humans. Miniscule differences day by day snowballed until you looked in a mirror and wondered just who this person was—the same eyes but alien skin. The crux of it was whether you did the changing alone, or with someone your heart drummed in sync with. That was the appeal of childhood sweethearts. That was the appeal of never attaining the latter and so, not fretting over just how Nami would be like after two years. 

Ridiculous, really. The final enemy of Robin's sharpened weapon of a mind turning out to be herself. Was it because she lacked self-confidence, or was it self-doubt? Both were starting to sound like the same damned face of the damned coin. Clearly, they had done their changing alone. Now all that was left was to see whether their breaths could flow into one again.

Looked like it was an issue of self-confidence after all, Nico Robin. 

Damn. _Just what exactly was she_ — 

"Robin!" 

Robin visibly jerked, her left elbow slipping right off its resting place on the railing. A lower timbre, but so, so achingly familiar. Because in the dim prison cell of Tequila Wolf, the cold cutting the raw skin around her shackled wrists and seeping into her bones, she thought she had heard her. In the Revolutionary Army's headquarters, striding down the corridor to meet with Koala, ringing out clearly over the patter of her own steps, she thought she had heard her. 

Had heard Nami calling her name. 

But it had always turned out to be a phantom, a defensive mechanism of the mind when a gaping hole had been ripped through the heart. She had grown so used to dismissing those lingering traces that her mind almost fell back into the same patterns of ignorance. 

But not this time. Not here, not now. 

She turned to the sound of Nami's voice. And immediately wished that her left elbow was still on the railing, because she sorely needed the support. Standing on the crest of a hill, framed by the morning glow and waving animatedly at her, was Nami. Suddenly, the popping sounds of the bubbles she had grown accustomed to drowned out everything else. _Pop pop pop_. In an instant, her heart puffed itself whole and threatened to similarly burst, smearing its pieces onto her ribcage. (Like a certain species of pufferfish off the coast of Ilusia when bitten down by predators.) 

Wait. Focus, Robin. Now wasn't the time to be a nerd.

Time spent away from the sun’s harsh glare on the sea had turned Nami's skin to a paleness that matched her own, though that was where the similarity ended. To put it simply, she had grown her hair out. To put it elaborately, it looked so fucking good. When it was short, it had been straight enough (she almost giggled childishly at that thought). But now it fell in such gentle curls to her waist that Robin had to quickly squash the thought of running her hands through it. Nami's attire was a lot more liberal now, not that she was complaining. Though she would have to make sure that she put on extra layers when they descend into the chilly depths. 

Without her knowing, she already had on an answering smile to Nami's joyous call. 

"Nami!" 

It was almost unfair how a simple word— a flick of the tongue and opening of lips, just a combination of made up sounds, really—felt this good to say. Nami hopped onto deck with Usopp and Chopper (ahh cute as always) and grimaced at Franky's new body, and something in Robin tilted back into place.

* * *

Unfortunately, the bliss of Nami's arrival and excitement of their descent numbed Robin’s cutting thoughts only temporarily. Or perhaps fortunately? Seeing how she had any reprieve at all. The Straw Hats meshed back together in the same dynamics that seemed to light up the gloomy depths. Sanji's new fragile state of mind and blood vessels could be cause for worry, but she was content to leave that in Chopper's capable hands. Err, hooves. 

So she wasn't still worried about that. Rather, she could count on one hand how many times she had spoken with Nami—including their first greeting. She wasn't a fool to expect otherwise, it wasn't as though they had always been very chatty around the others. But, like Zoro's slashed left eye and Luffy's scar ripped across his chest, there were still so many bridges to be crossed. To be rebuilt and re-solidified. She hadn't even known what everyone else had been up to until they exchanged stories over dinner. 

New yet old. That was the theme for today. The same old souls peeking out from new bodies. But even the same souls had different quirks. Ah, damn it. She was thinking in abstract terms for such a simple thing: she felt awkward and didn't know how to close the gap with Nami. It was made worse by knowing that the awkwardness was self-inflicted. Nami certainly seemed fine from what she observed—pulling her hair out over the boys' mischiefs, and their few conversations—deadpanned remarks on the others' antics. 

Fuck, just where did that suave persona she had used to charm so many go? 

Right. She didn't have to throw it up as protection anymore. Still, it would be good to have that casual confidence again. It felt that she spent more time watching Nami than eating her own dinner, delicious as it had been. Re-etching all of her expressions into her mind: lips pulled up into a quick grin and eyes flashing with mirth, or down into a fierce scowl and brows knitted. No one else wore displeasure quite as well. 

She entered their room first, with Nami still busy checking their route for the night. The door slid open soundlessly, she lit the lamps by muscle memory that surprised even herself, then sucked in a quick breath at the scene from countless dreams and daydreams. Originally, when Thousand Sunny was first built, Franky had placed two single beds in their room. It was quickly merged into a larger one at their mutual behest. Now it rested in the center of the room, sheets and covers freshly laid. 

Somehow, she dared not lie on it. Instead, she sat down on the chair by the table, noting amusedly that Nami’s sea charts already occupied a large portion of the table top. Remembrance and familiar sensations hung in the air. Like how an unvoiced fear hung on her lips, heavy as a wish. 

_"Are we still... us? Still together? Lovers? In love?"_

At first glance, and in fact she was never in any doubt, she knew that she still loved Nami. Even if the feelings were to have faded, she knew that she would come to love her once again. Inevitable. Unavoidable, the moment Nami called out her name and it felt like she had woken up. 

The simplest thing to do would be to outright ask Nami. But she wondered if she had the courage for that. Ridiculous, really. The woman who had conversed with Revolutionary Army's No. 1 and 2 now balking at the thought of talking to someone. 

Ah, but that wasn't quite fair to herself, was it? Nami wasn't just someone. She was— 

The door inched open. Robin turned and saw an eye peeking in. Then it swung open fully and Nami strolled in, a grin already on her face. 

"And here I was, worried that you'd be asleep already." 

"If I had?" 

"I'd sullenly get in beside you," she answered, flopping down onto the bed. Their bed. She stretched out happily at the softness.

Robin watched the covers twist around her, the mattress indenting, and thought that Nami was truly a force of nature. A presence that seemed to fill up a room, bending everything else around her (except Luffy's extraordinary stubbornness). She had barged her way into Robin’s life, while remaining wholly unaware of the casualness of the act. And Robin had gladly reshaped herself alongside her. Devil Child's almost imperceivable weight had sculpted her for far too long. 

"Sullenly, huh? Indicating a measure of disappointment?" 

Nami sat up and rolled her eyes good-humouredly. "Of course. A new habit of stating the obvious?" 

Robin hummed distractedly in response, her attention captured by Nami swinging her damp hair around and drying it. Muscles flexed beneath smooth skin as the towel was dragged through hair, the short shirt hitching up briefly to reveal a flash of paleness. She closed her eyes with a ragged sigh. 

Ridiculous, really. A simple sentence, a string of words, then she could find her balance again. That disaster of a fight against Kuma's robotic clone had physically displaced her from Nami, but she had felt the sense of oddness, of not-quite-where-she-should-be, with every breath that entered her lungs. So why did she still feel so off-balanced now that they were back together? 

_I haven't heard it yet. A confirmation, a statement, a—_

"Robin." 

It was only then that she realised Nami had asked her something, twice, and she had remained silent for too long. And all too late, she saw that Nami was getting up, the towel falling back down. Things were falling into motion. 

Three strides was all it took for Nami to close the gap between the bed and chair (it used to be three-and-a-half, the quickness of that last half step well memorised by Robin. There were things to be relearned about Nami). Three strides was all it took for Nami to make her way back into crevices of Robin's heart. 

She stopped before her, so close that their knees touched. And stepped closer still. Then sat down on Robin's legs, draping her arms over her shoulders. From nothing but sheer muscle memory—too shocked to even breathe—Robin lifted her arms in response and rested her hands lightly on her waist. 

Nami's increase in height set her chest right at Robin's eye level. It was a folly that she only managed to snap her eyes back up after a heated second, so fast that her head spun. And was met with an upward quirk of Nami's lips. A knowing grin. 

Robin groaned inwardly. 

"So what's been bothering you?" Nami said, doing an intentionally bad job of hiding the glee in her voice from Robin’s slip-up.

“You noticed?”

“Was it supposed to be hard? Your stares have never been subtle, you know.” 

Robin's fingers, holding onto Nami's shirt, feather-light, stiffened. She could not look into her eyes, dark swirls that swallowed light. In a way, she guessed their current positions were answer enough for her. But she needed to hear the affirmation from Nami’s mouth, the sounds formed by her vocal cords. Words had lied to her before, sweet reassurances then harsh betrayal in the dead of night for the monetary worth of her life. 

But not Nami. The words that left her mouth were as brash as they were true (except when Robin had just woken up, hair a tangled mess and eyes bleary and mouth half-drooped, and Nami had whispered, almost in awe, that she looked beautiful—that had to be a lie).

The answer she craved and dreaded required a question. She had to speak first. Inhaling, her fingers clung back onto the shirt, as she creaked open her mouth. “Are we—are we still us?” 

Nami stilled, then laughed a little. “You mean, do I still love you?” 

Those words jolted her from fear and excitement. Tightening her grip on a piece of fabric—of all things—she could only nod. The smooth cotton beneath her fingers shifted; Nami leaned back to withdraw an arm and firmly cupped her cheek. 

“Who do you think I am? The Cat Burglar hoards all her treasures down to the last beri. How could I ever let go of such a precious existence like you?” 

Ah. Just like that. A declaration of love if she had ever heard one. Boldly, confidently. Robin’s awkwardness seemed almost clumsy in comparison, a dog chasing its tail into a circle. And everyone pointed and laughed. Then again, Nami had always been the braver one between them, even when she still wore “Devil Child” as a reassuring cloak, when—

* * *

—Sky Island’s sea was incredible. Incredibly silent, given how the sea-clouds barely moved. No waves meant no rocking of the Going Merry, which meant, if she strained a little, she could hear the snores from the boys' room. And, of course, the slow breaths of Navigator-san filling up theirs. The feat of leading them up to the sky had taken its toll on the orange hair girl, driving her into a deep sleep that lasted till now. Robin’s eyes hadn’t left her for awhile. She was studying her, yes, but in the usual way she examined near-strangers for their quirks to string them along to her wills (or so she justified it to herself). 

Not that she had any such plans with Navigator-san. Just instinctual skills that had ensured her survival thus far. In any case, she didn’t think she’d have any trouble reading her with how obvious all her tells were (oh, how wrong she had been. Nami showed what she wanted to be seen), and she’d likely find similar success in getting to know her (not wrong, but she’d never had foreseen the extent of it). 

Navigator-san's breath hitched, a change in rhythm, the return of consciousness. Against all her honed instincts, Robin did not pull her gaze away. And so saw Navigator-san's eyes crack open, squinting against the brightness before opening fully. Awareness settled behind them as they darted around the room, checking everything was as it should be. 

Their gaze met. Robin felt oddly embarrassed, like being caught red handed in a shameful act. Then Navigator-san's eyes _softened_ , the corners of her lips curling up into a small smile. 

That sight alone left Robin feeling like she stood on a knife’s edge, losing balance fast. Just a few weeks ago she had been their enemy, the No.2 of an organisation they had destroyed. She’d never had slept in the same room as herself. Let alone see herself first thing in the morning—see herself as something other than a potential betrayer—and, while completely vulnerable, smile in recognition. 

Was this just the naiveness of youth? Or was this something resembling courage? 

Either way, 10000 meters above sea level, Robin’s heart slammed against her ribcage hard enough to make her think that she had tipped over and was falling, falling back down—

* * *

—The first night back in Water Seven, a roaring party was well underway. Completely unplanned for, it nevertheless managed to attract half the town’s residents. Robin leaned against the outermost wall of the courtyard, still reeling from Aokiji’s parting words (threat). Her gaze flickered ceaselessly across the pulsing crowd. Seeing nothing. Until an all-too-familiar silhouette pushed its way towards her, and her sight instantly snapped back into focus.

Nami’s face was slightly flushed—impossible to be from alcohol, she could drink five grown men under the table without blushing—as she leaned in and took Robin’s hand. 

Robin let herself be led to a more secluded area. Her hand was still cold from Aokiji’s warning, a sharp contrast to Nami’s warmth. If Nami noticed, she didn’t remark on it. They stopped at an alcove of sorts, lit by only a flickering torch. The shouts of partygoers dimmed to a pleasant murmur that Robin could relax in. Would, if she was alone and every sense wasn’t painfully strung. 

_What was Nami doing?_

Nami was gulping down a mouthful of air, cheeks puffing momentarily to remind Robin of a particular species of pufferfish off the coast of Toroa. Or was it Ilusia? Strange, it was hard to think amidst the haze that had inexplicably sprung up on her mind. The next moment, all thoughts vanished as Nami wrenched open her eyes. Inky black in the dimness yet somehow seeming to glow, the intensity in them stunned Robin's mind into silence even as Nami spoke.

"I like you." 

"Oh, me too. We're friends, right?" she replied without thinking. Careless. Far too careless. Even at the sharp stab of disappointment on Nami's face despite her best attempt at control, her first thought was that the mistake had been assuming they were even friends. 

Then it hit her. Everything kicked her in the chest all at once. The privacy, Nami's visible unease and mysterious blush, those seemingly weightless words. 

"Oh." 

_Oh_. So she hadn't been reading Nami's signs wrongly, simple as they had been. It just seemed foolish to think that she would actually return her interest. Robin cleared her throat, surprised to find it slightly constricted. 

"I'm sorry, my reply was thoughtless. If you will allow me a redo," she relaxed into a small smile, "I feel the same too." 

No one else, she thought to herself, wore happiness quite as well as Nami. Mouth splitting into a dazzling grin, eyes disappearing into crescents, Robin felt her own smile widen along. She would have left it at that, a mutual confession, and slowly worked things out between them. 

But, spurred on by the eagerness of youth and the intoxicating atmosphere, and although slightly hindered by inexperience—a childhood of trauma and abuse and teenage years unlearning them allowed little time for romantic ventures—Nami stepped right up to her. And suddenly rapid breaths were tickling Robin’s neck. Entirely enthralled, she tilted her head down, feeling as though Nami's eyes would devour her whole. 

Their first kiss was a little clumsy, teeth almost clacking together. Allowing herself an amused hum, she called on her few experiences to guide them into a much more enjoyable one. All the while marvelling at just how Nami summoned the courage to kiss her. If it were up to her, they would have moved at a pace unbearable to others, if the complaints of her past lovers was any indication. But, almost humming again from sheer joy, this felt just as good too—

* * *

—A slight pinch on her cheek brought her back to the present. There were so many things she wanted to say to Nami: gratitude for being the one to take the first step because she never would have, thankfulness for still loving a woman like her, and so many more. She looked up, hoping she hadn’t let Nami wait for too long. 

And nearly wept at the naked affection apparent on her face. Times like this Nami’s gaze was so gentle that it almost hurt, the rarest side of her shown to the outside world. Robin didn’t have many treasures for a pirate, but this had to be the most priceless one she possessed. This moment was one to lose herself in, to drown in those all-encompassing eyes that belonged to a personification of a storm cloud—gentle rain amidst crackling lightning. 

For all the books she had read, she was never going to be able to find the words to express all of these feelings to Nami. So, endearment fuelling her movements, she wrapped her arms firmly around Nami's waist and pulled her close, burying her face in her chest. 

Nami's faint yelp of surprise caused her to laugh, teeth scraping against collarbone. But was cut short when Nami tightened her hold about her shoulders and held her closer still. The only consolation for her blush was the frantic thundering of Nami's heart and similarly heated skin, even if she couldn't see just how embarrassment dusted Nami's features. 

They stayed like that for several long moments, utterly content in each other's presence. Then, despite Nami’s whine, she pulled back slightly, and mumbled against her skin. 

"I missed you.”

The slight shiver she got in response was satisfying enough, even before Nami dipped her head and murmured into her hair, the faint vibrations curling lazily down her spine. 

"I missed you too. You were thinking yourself into a knot over this, weren't you?" 

Robin grimaced, then sighed fondly. "Two years and you can still read me like a sea chart." 

"Two years of dreaming about you will do that to me. Not that there was anything else more interesting to do, mind you. Just an unbelievably boring island and equally irritating old men! Can you believe I spent two years surrounded by them?” Nami heaved a long-suffering sigh. 

"For what it's worth, Luffy's father is probably a worse conversation partner," Robin laughed. 

It was only then that she realised how light she felt. And how right. The sense of displacement that had insidiously grown roots into her blood vessels had vanished. Each breath felt clean and pure. She had no reason, none at all, to have worried about Nami's feelings. Especially when she remembered how her stubbornness was second only to Luffy's. 

Though she probably had let Nami take the reins far too often tonight. Whatever delusions of control she still had had to be maintained, after all. She met Nami's eyes for a split second, then surged upwards and captured her lips firmly. 

But, in hindsight, she thought wryly, even that action was probably her playing right into Nami’s hands—deft hands that had whisked away treasures and her breaths.

If Nami’s contented sigh, even before their lips met, was any indication.

* * *

Two years was 24 months was 720 days was 17520 minutes. Two years was enough time for a person to undergo immense changes. At least, in the case of Nami, immense changes exteriorly. Beneath the longer curls—as soft as Robin had imagined—and paler skin—blushes were so much more visible, to her delight—was a heart that had been beating out the exact same rhythm as hers. 

For all of the 720 days. Oceans apart. 

("You’ve changed too," Nami snuggled into the crook of her neck. 

"How so?”

“Your smiles feel… _lighter._ Easier to come. I'm glad. You know I was dead set on keeping my distance at the start. But then you smiled and it was hopeless. I was hopeless before you. So if you keep on smiling like that, I’ll really never let you out of my sight again,” she trailed off softly, falling asleep. 

It was a long time before Robin managed to let her hand that had been covering her face drop. Sleep would be elusive tonight, fleeing before her frenzied heartbeats.)


End file.
